LIB 



OF CONGRESS. 



R(\RY 

011^p.._ Copyright No, 



ShelL 



AibH^ 



1300 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE HEART'S CHOICE 

AND OTHER 

POEMS 



BY 



HENRY ALEXANDER LAVELY 



. . . . for he was 
Born unto singing. 

Richard Realf. 



REVISED EDITION 



CAMBRIDGE 

JJrintetJ at W^t EibersiiUe JJreeifi; 

1900 



59187 



l-jbrkiiy of C«ng-^**8 




"^v^u tiifHi ^ea «eo 




OCT 10 1900 




1 |)»'\»"-r r< 


T'635Z'i 


o«oir< f •« -stON, 


1^00 


! OCT 13 1900 



1 



COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY HENRY ALEXANDER LAVELY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



TO 

THE MEMORY OF 

MY DEAR WIFE 

I DEDICATE 
THIS LITTL1E' VOLUME. 



CONTENTS 



\l 



PAGE 

THE heart's choice 9 

OUR LITTLE PET II 

UNFULFILLED I3 

ATTAINED I4 

UNATTAINED 

THEY COME NO MORE 

THE SONGS OF THE SOUL I7 

AUTUMN 19 

LIFE 20 

ALMS 21 

OUR MARTYR 22 

OUR HEROES 24 

KEEMLE AND WILLIE: HERE AND THERE ... 26 

MUSINGS 27 

A REVERIE 29 

JULY 31 

A DAY IN AUGUST 32 

OCTOBER 33 

MUSIC 34 

"JEHOVAH-JIREH !" ....... 35 

SPRING 36 

BEAUTY 36 

HOPE 36 

POETRY 37 

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE 37 

EASTER • 37 

" I AM " 38 

VESPERS 38 

THE POET 38 

BOB WHITE 39 

LOVE 40 

5 



WHO KNOWS ? 41 

SMILES AND TEARS 42 

BROTHER PHIPPS 43 

RETURNED 44 

TRUST 45 

LIGHT AND SHADE 46 

SLACK DAVIS 47 

SLYTHE TABOR 47 

THE HILLS 48 

AFTER WHILE 49 

HIDDEN MANNA . 50 

A BRAVE GIRL 5I 

" WOULD I HAD DIED " 53 

TO ANNIE : A MEMORY 55 

GARFIELD 57 

LIFE FROM DEATH 58 

TO MY DAUGHTER 59 

IN DAYS TO COME 60 

ASPIRATIONS 62 

A FRAGMENT 64 

PROVIDENCE 65 

CHRISTMAS 66 

THE " STILL SMALL VOICE " 67 

"THE BRUISED REED" 68 

" THE LORD JEHOVAH " 70 

GOD 72 

" THE LITTLE CHURCH OVER THE HILL " . . '74 

MY heart's SONG 76 

"COME UNTO ME" 78 

INSTALLATION HYMN 79 

THE heart's VIGILS . 81 

A VISION 83 

RECOMPENSE 84 

" THE BLOOD OF JESUS ! " 85 

A MATCH GAME OF CROQUET 87 

THE THREE STAGES 93 



(yYi\x^ futo/y Jiij^ oM /i/Yi^i^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^^uajct 



THE HEARTS CHOICE 

A Painter quickly seized his brush, 

And on the canvas wrought 
The sweetest image of his soul, — 

His heart's most secret thought. 

A Minstrel gently struck his lyre, 

And wondrous notes I heard^ 
Which burned and thrilled and soothed by turns, 

And all my being stirred. 

A Singer sang a simple song, — 

An echo of his soul ; 
It vibrates still through all my life, 

And lifts me to its goal. 

A Poet took his pen and wrote 

A line of Hope and Love ; 
It was a heaven-born thought, and breathed 

Of purest joys above. 
9 



A man of God, what time my heart 
Was weighed with sorrow down, 

Spoke golden words of Faith and Trust, 
And they became my crown. 

I see the Painter's picture still ; 

I hear the Minstrel's lyre ; 
The Singer's song, the Poet's thought 

Still glow with sacred fire ; 

But in my heart's most hallowed realm 
The good man's words do live, 

And through my life a perfume breathe 
That naught of earth can give. 



lO 



OUR LITTLE PET 

We have the sweetest little girl 

That ever you did see, 
As bright, as happy, and as fair 

As ever she can be. 

Her eyes are black as any crow's 

And always full of fun, 
And sparkle so with love and joy, 

Your heart is fairly won. 

Her lips are like the cherry ripe. 
And taste to us more sweet. 

And the pure rapture of a kiss 
Is as when brooklets meet. 

Her hair is like a bunch of wheat, 
Kissed by the morning sun. 

Just as the god of day begins 
His golden race to run. 
II 



Her voice is to our listening ears 

As music soft and sweet, 
The echo of whose gentle tones 

Is touched by little feet. 

Her ways are cute, and roguish too, 
And take the heart by storm, 

While all the fountains of her life 
Are pure and sweet and warm. 

Our Father ! keep this treasure dear 
Beneath thy sheltering wing. 

And let her little hands unto 
The Rock of Ages cling. 



12 



UNFULFILLED 

The sweetest songs are never sung ; 
The fairest pictures never hung ; 
The fondest hopes are never told, — 
They are the heart's most cherished gold 

For in the empire of the heart, 
There is a realm from this apart, 
Whose pictures are too pure for earth, 
Whose language is of heavenly birth. 



13 



ATTAINED 

We may not sing a song so soft 

As angel voices sing, 
Nor catch the notes of love which they 

On golden harps do bring. 

We may not write the burning thoughts 
Which through our being roll, 

Nor thrill with rapture pure and sweet 
Another longing soul. 

We may not take a brush and paint 

The pictures of the mind. 
Nor touch with rainbow hues the hopes 

Which round the heart are twined. 

But to the weary ones of earth 
We words of cheer may give, 

Which in their hearts shall brightly burn, 
And there forever live. 



14 



UNATTAINED 

I SAW a child, one summer day, 

Pursue, with eager feet, 
A butterfly. The gorgeous thing, 

On golden wing so fleet, 

Flew from his grasp, till down he sat 
And wept, because he failed 

To catch the treasure, which away 
In the glad sunshine sailed. 

So when the faithful child of song 
Would catch some truant strain, 

Behold ! 't is gone, and sad he sits 
And weeps in bitter pain. 



IS 



THEY COME NO MORE 

Like waves which once have kissed the shore, 

But come no more, but come no more, 

So are the sweetest thoughts that roll 

Along the currents of the soul : 

They come no more ; they come no more. 



i6 



THE SONGS OF THE SOUL 

Oft in the midnight's sacred hour, 

When round me breathes some mighty power, 

Throughout the chambers of my soul 
The grandest notes of music roll, 

As if an angel passing by 

Had poised a moment in the sky 

To sing a song as pure and sweet 
As ever stirred the golden street. 

No poet's pen may ever write 
Nor trace in words of living light 

The glory of these strains of love, 
Which, from the blissful realms above, 

Do waft their beauty to my heart, 
And all their rapture rare impart. 

For they 've a language all their own. 
Than songs of earth a sweeter tone ; 
17 



Yet in some still hour of my life, 
When all my being 's free from strife, 

I fain would catch the faintest note 
Which through the vibrant air doth float, 

And sound it out so loud and clear 
That all the weary world might hear ; 

So should my soul with joy be blest, 
And recompense become my guest. 



i8 



AUTUMN 

The woods are tinged with red and gold ; 

The sky hangs crimson o'er the scene ; 
The balmy air — Oh, rapture rare ! — 

Floats, like a benison, between. 

October 24, 1885. 



19 



LIFE 

'T WILL all be over by and by — 

This fitful fever — life ; 
These bitter tears will soon be dry, 

And ended all the strife. 

This warfare which we strangely wage 

Will soon be overpast, 
And all the storms that round us rage 

Will sink to rest at last. 

These hopes which mock us with their dreams, 

And vanish one by one, 
Shall lead at length to living streams 

Beyond the setting sun. 

These faiths which are so weak and cold 

Will soon be crowned with love. 
And safe within the Shepherd's fold 

W^e '11 taste the joys above. 



20 



ALMS 

She came to me and asked for alms 
In low and plaintive voice ; 

I gave her from my humble store, 
And bade her go rejoice. 

She came to me for alms ; I gave 
Her from my yearning heart 

Enough for many days to come, — 
A feast, of life a part. 

The cruse may fail, but nevermore 

The full and loyal soul ; 
For giving to the giver adds 

As years on years do roll. 



21 



OUR MARTYR 

Thy ways, O God, are strange to us, 

We cannot find them out ; 
Oh, give us faith to hope and trust 

That we may never doubt. 

Our hearts are sad — the nation mourns 

Its great and noble chief ; 
And over all the land there rolls 

The surges of its grief. 

" With charity to all," he breathed 
His gentle life away. 
And left a fragrance pure and sweet 
As flowers of balmy May. 

" With charity to all," — to thee, 
O fiend ! who dealt the blow 
Which plunged the land in bitter tears, - 
This charity did flow. 

22 



" With charity to all," — /^ thee, 
Thou spirit of the pit, 
To thee, who made us thus to mourn, 
And down in sadness sit. 

O Justice ! let thy sword be swift, 
To punish such a deed ! 

O Earth ! in sorrow bow thy head 
And for our country plead ! 
April, 1865. 



23 



OUR HEROES.^ 

Lift high the marble over the tombs 

Of the heroic dead, 
Fit emblem of the hearts whose blood 

For Liberty was shed ; 

And on the spotless shaft inscribe 

The deeds of glory done, — 
The faiths, the hopes, the deaths through which 

Their victories were won. 

Then deck their graves with flowers of spring. 

Plucked from the brow of morn. 
All glowing with the pearly dew, 

In night and darkness born. 

Bring wreaths which speak of deathless hopes, 

And twine them round the spot 
'Neath which our loved ones sleep the sleep 

Their patient valor brought. 

1 Read before the G. A. R. at the Academy of Music 
Pittsburgh, May 30, 1873. 



24 



Weave chaplets fair of every hue, 

And strew them all around, 
Until the fragrance which they breathe 

Shall hallow all the ground. 

And bring the lily, sweet and pure, 
The pledge of Faith and Love, 

And let its perfume wafted be, 
With Hope and Joy, above. 

Oh, tell the story of their fame 

In speech and act and song, 
Till every heart shall catch the theme, 

And join the grateful throng ; 

Till every heart shall be a fane, 

In which their memories lie. 
And every throb shall speak the praise 

Of works which never die : 

Till over all the earth a shout 

For Freedom shall arise. 
Which, as the earth grows old, shall swell 

The anthem of the skies t 



25 



KEEMLE AND WILLIE: HERE AND 
THERE.i 

Four little feet, grown weary here, 

Now walk the other shore ; 
Four sparkling eyes, ceased twinkling here, 

Now view the golden shore. 

Four busy hands, grown palsied here, 
Now clasp the white-robed throng ; 

Four ruby lips, grown speechless here. 
Now sing the heavenly song. 

Two snowy brows, ceased aching here, 
Are decked with garlands there ; 

Two loving hearts, ceased beating here, 
Are filled with rapture there. 

Two heads, grown soft and flaxen here. 

Are bright and radiant there ; 
Two pets, so weak and guarded here. 

Are " as the angels " there. 
1 Died October, 1861, aged six and eight. 



26 



MUSINGS 

Oh, what were life if we ne'er touched 
Its sweet or subtile springs ? 

If we ne'er felt the strange, wild joy 
Which Genius o'er it flings ? 

If we ne'er heard the yearning throbs 

Of other beating hearts ? 
If we ne'er knew the longing hopes 

Another soul imparts ? 

If we ne'er climbed untrodden heights, 
Nor dreamed in fairy land ? 

If we ne'er grasped a wondrous Truth 
By Wisdom strangely planned ? 

If we ne'er breathed a purer air 
Than e'er on earth did blow ? 

If we ne'er walked the golden stair 
Up which the angels go ? 
27 



If we ne'er sought the Christ of God, 
Nor pondered o'er His fame ? 

If we ne'er told His love abroad, 
Nor gloried in His name ? 

If we for aye were doomed to sit 

Amid the dross of earth, 
And never read a hallowed writ 

Or page of heavenly birth ? 

If we for aye were whirled along 
Time's busy, jostling way. 

And could not 'mid the eager throng 
E'en find a place to pray ? 

If we for aye should hear the moans 
Which tremble from the crowds. 

And never bear an angel's tones 
Come floating through the clouds ? 

If we for aye should shut our hearts 

And live for self alone. 
And never know that Love imparts 

A beauty all its own ? 

If we for aye should fold our hands 
And dream our years away, 

When every hour so much demands 
That we must not delay ? 
28 



A REVERIE 

The voices of the Past, in varied tones, 
Speak to my soul to-night and will not hush ; 
A thousand deeds they whisper of the years, — 
The long forgotten years — when life was young, 
And Joy and Hope were linked with golden 

chains ; 
And every pulse beat music to the heart, 
And every breath was drawn in Faith and Love. 

They tell of manhood's grapple with the world. 
When heart was strong and will sublime — sub- 
lime 
As with imperious tread the mountain's top 
Became as dust before its. waving wand ; 
And earth's colossal shapes of Fear but seemed 
At its approach dim spectres of the air. 
They tell of scenes of mirth and revelry, 
When earth seemed decked in garlands bright and 

fair : 
When Pleasure with a golden sceptre sat 
Within the charmed circle of my life. 
And claimed the wildest homage of my heart. 
29 



They tell of hours of darkness, too, when Grief 
Sat sternly on her throne, with face so pale 
That corpse-like it did seem amidst the gloom. 

Now every voice is still and hushed but two ; 
The Present stands beside me like a king. 
And loudly calls to action ! whilst around 
The circle of my mind there floats a form, 
Dressed in the garb of Faith and Hope and Love, 
Which echoes action ! action ! then in tones 
Which seem fresh from the great White Throne 

there come 
The words : " Act in the ETERNAL NOW : so 

shall 
The Future be the Fruit the now shall bear, 
And as thou dost approach, thy hands shalt pluck, 
And thou shalt eat. 



30 



JULY 

The golden grain glows in the noonday sun ; 

The languid air floats through the waving field ; 

The flowers and grass their richest beauty yield, 
The largesse which the royal month hath won, 
The wealth which in her princely train doth run, 

The grandeur of the harvest of the year, 

The crown which on her forehead doth appear, 
The glory clasping earth and sky in one ! 
Thou art the earnest sweet of joys benign, 

O radiant days of hope and peace and calm ; 
O perfect days, of grace the pledge and sign ; 

O lovely days which end in song and psalm ; 
O Eden days, thy restful charms are mine, — 

O peerless days of bounty and of balm ! 



31 



A DAY IN AUGUST 

All nature rests in undisturbed repose ; 

The sunflower looks upon the morning sun 

As he begins his golden race to run ; 
The languid air through every blossom blows, 
Till all around the sweetest perfume flows, 

And all the hours are full of peace and calm, 

As the expiring notes of song or psalm ; 
And soothed to rest are life's perplexing woes. 
The crystal lake reflects the fleecy sky, 

And as the wondrous day draws to its end 
The clouds are tinted with a crimson dye. 

And to the scene their richest beauty lend ; 
While all the grandeur heaven and earth supply 

In one transcendent wave of glory blend ! 



32 



OCTOBER 

Into its lap the treasures of the year 

Are gladly thrown. The royal goldenrod, 
Fresh from the kind and gracious hand of God, 

Puts on a brighter garb ; and far and near 

The wonders of the autumn hues appear. 
The balmy air with ecstasy is rife, 
All nature grows in plenitude of life, 

And breathes deep with the bounties of good 
cheer. 

The morning clouds are full of beauty, too, 
And dash their richest crimson o'er the scene ; 

While in the range of sunset's purple view 
There glows the glory of its changing sheen. 

The tints of earth and sky forever new ; 
The grandeur which forever rolls between I 



33 



MUSIC 

From out the heart of God she gladly sprang ; 

On golden feet from sphere to sphere she sped, 

And lo ! the darkness from her presence fled, 
The morning stars together sweetly sang, 
The earth with melody triumphant rang, 

And unto song the universe was joined, 

From the eternal anthems swiftly coined. 
Forever freed from discord's fearful clang ! 

Rejoice, O earth, for this celestial gift ! 
This choicest boon of angels and of men, — 

This harmony, whose notes the soul do lift, 
Above the highest reach of human ken. 

And through the darkest cloud reveal a rift. 
Through which is sounded out a loud Amen I 



34 



"JEHOVAH-JIREH!" 

" Jehovah-Jireh ! " He shall still supply 

Our needs. In every hour of pain or woe 

Into our saddened hearts shall swiftly flow 
The peace and joy of Him who hears our cry ; 
The love of One who is forever nigh ; 

The cheer of One who bore our deepest grief ; 

The grace of One who '11 gladly give relief, — 
" Jehovah-Jireh ! " Unto Thee we fly ! 
And though our time on earth be short or long, 

We know that we shall reach our home at last 
And gladly join the everlasting song 

With those who through the golden gates have 
passed, 
And in the anthem of the skies, prolong 

Praise to Jehovah-Jireh ! — first and last I 
November y 1897. 



35 



SPRING 

I HEARD a robin red-breast sing ; 

I saw a blue-bird on the wing ; 

I caught the breath that snowdrops bring, 

And lo ! the earth was crowned with spring. 

BEAUTY 

It nestles in the damask rose 
Whose perfume fills the air ; 

It whispers in the voice of Him 
Who makes the rose his care. 

HOPE 

The anchor of the trembling soul, 
To which in surging seas she clings ; 

The sunshine which, when tempests roll. 
From out the clouds its radiance flings. 



36 



POETRY 

It is the music of the chosen soul ; 
The strains that through the realms of nature roll ; 
The songs of sea and tree and sky and bird ; 
The cry of human hearts by passion stirred. 

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE 

Faith said : " 'T is brighter farther on ; " 
Hope said : " I see the coming dawn ; " 
Love said, — the greatest of the three, — 
" The morn is here ! — 't is found in me ! '* 

EASTER 

" He is not here : He is risen now ! " 
And the immortal life is ours ; 
He broke the bonds of Death and Hell, 

And lo ! the spring was crowned with flowers ! 



37 



"I AM" ' 

There is no God but one : the great " I AM," 
To whom the years are but as yesterday j 

The Lord Jehovah, the Eternal One, 

Who is his people's staff and strength and stay. 

VESPERS 

Chautauqua ! 'round thy vesper hour, 

A thousand mem'ries cling ; 
The trees, the grass, the lake, the sky, 
With sweetest praises ring ! 
Chautauqua, August^ 1899. 

THE POET 

The fire had long and fiercely burned, 
Till all the dross to gold was turned. 
When from his gifted pen there flowed, 
As his rapt soul with ardor glowed, 
The Word the angels sing above. 
The God revealing Word of Love. 



38 



BOB WHITE 

Bob White ! Bob White ! Thy song I hear 
At morn and eve, now far, now near ; 
Hast thou no other cry nor care, 
No other message sweet to bear, 
Than that which sounds so loud and clear ? 

When summer 's gone thy notes of cheer 
Shall still be borne unto the ear 
Upon the bracing morning air ; 

Bob White ! Bob White ! 

And not until within the ear 

The grains of golden corn appear, 
And thou hast found thy mate so fair, 
Shall cease thy pure resounding air 

Across the lea, across the mere ; 

Bob White ! Bob White ! 



39 



LOVE 

" I LOVE you well ! " — sweet as a bell 
Her voice, — " Yes, more than tongue can tell ! 
She softly whispered in mine ear, 
While from her eye a pearly tear 
Rolled down — all sainted as it fell. ■ 

Thus, 'round my heart a wondrous spell 
Was thrown, — pure as an anthem's swell, — 
As on me fell, in tones sincere, 

" I love you well ! " 

Then to my heart I took my Belle, 

For I knew well none could excel, 
Nor yet repel, a love so dear, — 
A trust so full of hope and cheer, 

Borne from the realm where angels dwell, — 
I love you well ! 



40 



WHO KNOWS? 

The red rose in her golden hair 
Grows deeper in the evening air, 
As tell-tale blushes o'er her face 
Their radiant pathway swiftly trace. 

Perhaps it was the setting sun 

Who kissed her cheeks in jest or fun, 

Or the reflection of the rose. 

Who knows ? Oh, maiden fair ! Who knows ? 

Or — and I think I 'm right — the words 
She heard last evening, as the birds 
Their parting songs were singing, still 
With strains of love her being fill. 



41 



SMILES AND TEARS 

The smiles and tears upon thy face, 
As they their glowing pathway trace, 
Are like the summer's sun and rain, 
Which gleam by turns upon the plain 

Among the waving grain ; 

For smiles and tears, and sun and rain, 
Which kiss thy cheeks with sweet disdain, 
Are from the same kind Hand, you know, 
Both leaving, as they come and go, 

A touch of joy or pain. 



42 



BROTHER PHIPPS 

WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF A DINNER GIVEN BY REV. 
WM. H. PHIPPS ON THE EVE OF HIS DEPARTURE SOUTH 

We thank you, Brother Phipps, 

For this good cheer ; 
May all your life be blest 

With friends so dear ; 

And from the sunny land 

To which you go, 
Pray cast a kindly thought 

To those who know 

Naught of the skies that gleam 

With rarest blue, 
And to the landscape lend 

A wondrous hue ; 

But may we meet at last 

In pastures green, 
Where silent waters flow, 
Pure and serene. 
December, 1899. 

43 



RETURNED 

I SAW a bright and peaceful scene, 

I saw the ripening grain, 
Which I in faith and hope had sown, 

Resplendent on the plain. 

I heard a voice — a tender voice — 
Which down the years had rolled : 
" I give you back the words you spake 
With all their treasured gold." 

The fields beneath November's sky 
Lie cold and drear and bare, 

While words of cheer which once I spake 
A constant harvest bear. 



44 



TRUST 

LINES SUGGESTED ON READING A SKETCH OF WHITTIER'S 
RELIGIOUS BELIEF 

Enough for me to know 
That Christ is God indeed ; 

Enough for me to feel 
He shall supply my need. 

JEnough for me to kneel 

Close to His bleeding side ; 

Enough for me to seek 

Him for my peace and guide. 

Enough for me to cast 

On Him my every care ; 
Enough for me to wait, 

And all his crosses bear. 

Enough for me to hear 
The tender Shepherd's voice ; 

Enough for me to trust, 
And in His love rejoice. 



45 



LIGHT AND SHADE 

One evening fair a fleecy cloud 

Lay calmly in the sky, 
When swiftly wafted from the west 

A somber one passed by ; 

Eclipsing with its shadows dark 
The brightness of the scene, 

And shutting out the beauty rare 
Which formed its changing sheen ; 

So when the silver clouds of life 
Their radiance 'round us fling, 

A darker one obscures our sight, — 
The shade of sorrow's wing. 



46 



SLACK DAVIS 

Thy songs on earth are hushed 
(And hearts are sad crushed), 
But oh ! they linger still ; 
They all our being fill j 

And thy released lyre, 
Touched by seraphic fire, 
Evolves a sweeter strain 
Than notes of earth attain ! 

Aprily 1889. 

SLYTHE TABOR 

Thy pen is silent now ; 
Unwrinkled is thy brow ; 
A sweeter song is thine. 
Triumphant and benign. 

A harp of God is thine, 
Of joy the seal and sign ; 
The sea of glass is thine 
Mingled with fire divine, 
47 



THE HILLS 

" I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills " 

Above the murky plains of life, 
Above the moaning and the strife, 
I gladly lift my longing eyes 
To Him who all my need supplies. 

Below, our vision is not clear, 
Below, our hearts are filled with fear. 
But up where God in grandeur dwells 
He every louring cloud dispels. 

For there we breathe a purer air. 
An ampler ether sweet and rare 
Surrounds the trusting, sheltered soul, 
And all the storms His hand control. 

From harm of sun or moon preserved, 
And for life's grandest service nerved. 
The heart on the eternal hills 
Abides secure from earthly ills. 



48 



AFTER WHILE 

I SAW her in my dream, 
I caught a moment's gleam 

Of raiment pure and white ; 

I heard the song she sang 
As through the skies it rang, 

Ere she was lost to sight. 

It was a vision sweet, 
My rapture was complete, 

And then it took its flight ! 

But after while we '11 meet 
Along the golden street, 

Where parted souls unite. 



49 



HIDDEN MANNA 

The chosen Heart hath manna sweet 
Of which the worldling cannot eat, — 
A constant feast of joys refined, 
Spread in the chambers of the mind. 

And as she sits and breaks her bread 
A thousand worthy souls are fed, 
So rich the bounties of her hand, 
So large the gifts at her command ! 

And yet her store is still increased. 
And she enjoys a nobler feast, 
For every crumb she doth dispense 
Becomes a loaf, — in recompense ! 



50 



A BRAVE GIRL 

In Memory of Lottie Dougherty, a telegraph oper. 
ator of millville, pennsylvania, who, in saving a 
passenger train from destruction, received her 
death wound 

No braver act than thine, sweet girl, 

Can thrill the poet's heart. 
Nor touch with an ecstatic glow 

The painter's matchless art. 

In saving others thou didst give 

Thine own unspotted life, 
And leave behind a name that shines 

Effulgent through the strife. 

What though the storm in fury raged, 
The lightnings flashed and played, 

The thunder pealed and roared and rolled, 
And all for succor prayed — 

Thy swift feet bore the signal light 

That saved the rushing train. 
With all its freight of precious lives, 

And good they might attain. 
51 



But thou art gone ; thy race is run ; 

Dear ones have laid thee low, 
And o'er thy tomb the flowers of spring 

In tender beauty grow ! 

Whilst thy freed spirit gladly soars 
Through realms of endless bliss, 

Above the tempests and the storms 
Of such a world as this. 



"WOULD I HAD DIED" 

"Would I had died," you say; "for then 
I should have left behind 
A sacred memory in thine heart, 
With deathless hopes enshrined." 

Oh, say not so ! down in my soul 

Thine image sainted Ues, 
Beyond the reach of aught in life 

To harm or to surprise. 

And though on earth our feet shall tread 
(For thou hast deemed it best) 

On paths which lead us far apart, 
In search of love and rest. 

Still, when we cross the river cold, 
And gain the thither shore. 

We shall together join the song 
Of those who 've gone before. 



53 



We shall together backward gaze 

Along the road we 've trod ; 
And learn what else we had not learned, 

The way that leads to God I 



54 



TO ANNIE: A MEMORY 

How strangely near thou art to-night ; 

Thy spirit fills my heart ; 
The hopes of other days grow bright, 

And all their joys impart. 

Thine image seems to float around 

The circle of my mind, 
Until with love and peace profound 

My faith with thine is twined. 

I seem to hear thy tones so sweet, — 

The music of thy soul, — 
Which softly as when streamlets meet. 

Along my memory roll. 

I seem to feel thy fond caress, — 

The touch of long ago, — - 
The clasp of hands which fain would bless, 

Before they let me go. 



55 



Thy lips to mine once more are pressed ; 

I feel thy presence still ; 
Thou art my soul's most constant guest ; 

Thou dost my being fill. 



S6 



GARFIELD 

He 's dead ! and all the world is sad ; 

He gained the height of earthly fame, 
And as he bowed his head and died, 

He left us an immortal name. 

He 's dead ! but he yet speaks in tones 
So pure, so tender, and so true, 

That all our hearts are still and hushed 
And touched with hopes forever new. 

He 's dead ! Oh, do not say he 's dead ! 

His radiant pathway still doth glow 
Beneath the sunshine of a life 

Resplendent as the virgin snow. 

He 's dead ! Oh, no, not dead ! He sleeps 

A gentle sleep, and after while, 
When all the dreams of life are past, 

He '11 wake ^neath God's eternal smile. 
September 19, 1881. 



57 



LIFE FROM DEATH 

The shades of evening round me fell ; 

I heard the tolling of her bell ; 
I felt the darkness steal along, 

Till hushed was every plaintive song. 

Anon, I saw the golden day 

Around the shadows brightly play, 

Until — oh, life from death ! — the sun 
Burst forth his radiant race to run. 

So when the shapes of Doubt and Fear 
Creep to my heart, all dark and drear, 

The morning breaks ! the shadows fly ! 
And sunshine fills my summer sky. 



58 



TO MY DAUGHTER 

So you are nine years old to-day, 
My own old-fashioned Sue, — 

I note the fact — and only say. 
Be good and brave and true. 



59 



IN DAYS TO COME 

In days to come we plan good deeds, 

And lose the golden now ; 
In days to come we mean to sow, 

But we forget the vow ; 

In days to come ! 

In days to come we think we see 

A harvest rich and rare ; 
In days to come we fain would reap, 

But no ripe grain is there ; 

In days to come ! 

In days to come we dream fond dreams. 
And think them real and true ; 

In days to come they melt away 
Swift as the morning dew ; 

In days to come ! 

In days to come we treasures heap, 

A store for many years ; 
In days to come they vanish all 
And leave us only tears ; 

In days to come ! 
60 



And yet, in days to come, there is 
" A house not made with hands," 

In which, in days to come, we shall 
Weave Life's unwoven strands ; 
In days to come ! 



6t 



ASPIRATIONS 

Like some fair bird, which erstwhile flew 

Far into heaven's eternal blue, 

And, wafted to a purer air, 

Did sing a song beyond compare ! 

My soul on pinions strong and bright 
Hath often taken up her flight, 
And soared away on wings of love 
To regions far from earth above, 

Till weary of her dizzy height. 
And dazzled by the golden light. 
She fluttered back to earth again, 
And gave her radiant joy for pain. 

But not content to idly lie 
Beneath the gorgeous morning sky. 
And fain to try again her wing 
And in a purer ether sing, 



62 



She lifts herself to sail away 
To realms of calm and endless day, 
Where in a softer, sweeter sphere 
Her outlook should be bright and clear. 

But all in vain, for angry clouds 
And shapes of Fear in horrid crowds 
Shut out the beauty of the scene. 
Which seemed so lovely and serene. 

*T is then I hear a voice : " Be still, 
And bow before my sovereign will, 
And soon, the storms all overpast. 
Thy vision shall be pure at last ; 

" On sights more fair than those below. 
On flowers that shall forever blow, 
Thine eye for aye shall fondly gaze, 
And all thy heart be filled with praise." 



63 



A FRAGMENT 

HEART 

Whence come these murmurs of the soul 
Which through the inmost being roll ? — 
These yearnings ever on the wing, 
Oh, tell me whence their secret spring ? 

FAITH 

No earthly joy can hush their plaint, 
No earthly brush their spirit paint, 
No earthly grief can quell their flight, 
No earthly pen their language write. 

HEART 

Above the clouds have they their birth ? — 
They flutter so 'mid scenes of earth ; 
Or notes are they of angels' song, 
Just wafted from the distant throng ? 

FAITH 

They are thy language, anxious heart ; 
In accents strange do they impart 
The earnest of a sweeter strain, 
A grander, holier refrain ! 
64 



PROVIDENCE 

As God doth kindly stay 
His rough wind in the day 

His east wind keenly blows ; 

So in the time of need, 

When hearts are sore and bleed, 

His dearest love He shows ; 

For all the storms He guides, 
On all the winds He rides ; 

What we can bear He knows. 



65 



CHRISTMAS 

Oh, bless the happy Christmas morn 
On which the Holy Child was born ! 
Its songs so glad, its words of cheer, 
To heart and memory, oh, how dear ! 

Its gifts to young, and old as well ; 
Its merry chimes, which sweetly tell 
The story of His humble birth 
Who was the king of all the earth ! 

Oh, bless the hallowed joy it brings ; 
The hope which from its spirit springs 
The goodness trooping in its train 
From Bethlehem's far distant plain ! 

And so, with Tiny Tim, oh, pray. 
Upon this peaceful Christmas day, 
" God bless Us ! — bless Us Every One ! " 
With deeds of kindness gladly done. 



66 



THE "STILL SMALL VOICE" 
[i Kings xix. ii, 12] 

Not in the whirlwind's mighty blast, 
Nor in the earthquake's surging shock, 

Nor in the scorching, blinding flame 
Does God come to His little flock : 

But in the still small voice of Love, 
He comes to woo and bless and cheer, 

Until the heart is soothed to rest, 
And gone is every hurtful fear. 



67 



"THE BRUISED REED" 

" I WILL not break the bruisbd reed ! " 
Oh weary ones, in doubt and need, 
With gladness hear the gentle tone 
Of Him to whom your griefs are known. 

" I will not break the bruised reed ! " 
Oh stricken ones, with hearts that bleed, 
Your Saviour all your wounds shall heal, 
And to your minds His Peace reveal. 

" I will not break the bruised reed ! " 
Oh trembling ones, the message heed. 
And to your Lord your sorrows tell. 
And with your souls it shall be well. 

" I will not break the bruised reed ! " 
Oh tempted ones, the lesson read. 
And let your faith to Jesus cling. 
As all your cares to Him you bring. 



68 



" I will not break the bruised reed ! " 
Oh wand'ring ones, your feet He '11 lead 
In all the straight and narrow way, 
Till you have gained the perfect day. 

" I will not break the bruised reed ! " 
Oh constant ones, with precious seed. 
Your tears will soon have all been shed, 
And golden sheaves shall crown each head. 

October 24, 1870. 



69 



"THE LORD JEHOVAH" 

" The Lord Jehovah is my strength ; " 
He also is my song ; 
He is my hope and portion here 
When doubts around me throng. 

" The Lord Jehovah is my strength ; " 
His everlasting arms 
Are underneath to comfort me 
When fear or pain alarms. 

" The Lord Jehovah is my strength ; " 

"He is my all in all;" 
" Beneath the shadow of his wings " 
No danger can befall, 

" The Lord Jehovah is my strength ; " 
" He is my dwelling-place ; " 

" He is my shield and buckler," too, 
My peace, my rest, my grace. 



70 



" The Lord Jehovah is my strength ; " 
Upon His word I feed, 
And " sweeter than the honey-comb " 
The promises I read. 

" The Lord Jehovah is my strength ; " 
My covert from the wind ; 
My hiding-place when tempests rage ; 
In Him I safety find. 



71 



GOD 

" Canst thou by searching find out God ? " 
Or grasp His secret thought ? 
Canst thou through realms by angels trod 
Trace how His plans are wrought ? 

Canst thou in this brief dream of life 

Aught of His purpose show ? 
Canst thou through conflict and through strife 

His peaceful being know ? 

Canst thou tell how before His eyes 

A thousand years are spread, 
As yesterday, which stricken lies 

With all its kindred — dead ? 

Canst thou look into His great mind, 

And read His counsels o'er ? 
Canst thou in earthly wisdom find 

Of knowledge such a store ? 



72 



Canst thou soar back on restless wing, 
And through strange chaos gaze 

Upon a world which soon should sing 
Its great Creator's praise ? 

Canst thou by human thought e'er sound 
The depths of His great might 

Before an angel's pinion found 
A pathway to the light ? 

O Thou^ eternal God ! Thy ways 

Are far above our thought ! 
We can but lift our hearts in praise 

For what Thy love hath wrought ! 

We know how weak we are : how great 
Thou art, we ne'er shall know ; 

Oh ! teach us in our low estate 
That we in faith may grow. 

Teach us to live a life of trust 

Upon the Son of God, 
That when our bodies turn to dust 

Our works may spread abroad. 

Teach us to live a life of love, 
Drawn from the Saviour's breast ; 

So in the golden courts above 
We '11 find eternal rest. 
73 



"THE LITTLE CHURCH OVER THE 
HILL " 

O LITTLE church, all patched and torn, 
Thou art again left sad and lorn, 
With none thy sacred desk to fill — 
Poor little church over the hill ! 

O little church, so oft bereaved 
Of priests in whom thou hast believed, 
By changes thou hast lost thy skill — 
Nice little church over the hill ! 

O little church so sick and sore, 
We thought thy sorrows were no more ; 
But round they seem to linger still, — 
Sweet little church over the hill ! 

'T is true no lofty organ sounds 
Within thy sacred, hallowed bounds, 
To stir and lift and waft and thrill — 
Dear little church over the hill ! 



74 



Nor frescoed walls, nor bright array, 
To tempt the soul from heaven away, 
Are found within thy gates so still — 
Plain little church over the hill ! 

Yet Christ the Lord is worshiped there 
Upon the wings of Faith and Prayer, 
Borne sweetly upward with a will — 
Bright little church over the hill ! 

And songs of loved ones linger round, 
Whose incense hallows all the ground, 
With not a sound to jar or chill — 
Rare little church over the hill ! 

And one is not who spoke the word 
Which others absent gladly heard, 
And now they stand on Zion's hill — 
Fair little church over the hill ! 
MiNERsviLLE, May, 1874. 



75 



MY HEART'S SONG 

Of Thee my heart would gladly sing, 
And to Thy feet its tribute bring 

Of sweetest praise and love ; 
For all the wonders of Thy grace, 
For all the hopes Thy Cross embrace, 

For all the joys above. 

Of Thee my heart would gladly sing. 
And over all the world would ring 

The wonders of Thy death ! 
Of Thee my lips would gladly tell, 
And on Thy great salvation dwell 

With my expiring breath ! 

Of Thee my heart would gladly sing, 
As " 'neath the shadow of Thy wing " 

My soul abides secure 
From fear and danger, storm and strife 
From all the blasting winds of life — 

From all that can allure. 



76 



Of Thee my heart would gladly sing, 
And all around would gladly fling 

The treasures of its joy, 
Till others join the sweet refrain 
And thus in ecstasy proclaim 

The hopes their tongues employ. 

Of Thee my heart would gladly sing, 
O Thou triumphant Lord and king, 

Its grandest earthly song, 
Till yonder in a grander psalm, — 
"The song of Moses and the Lamb," - 

It shall the notes prolong. 



77 



"COME UNTO ME" 

" Come unto me," O weary soul, 
" And I will give you rest ; " 
Come when the billows wildly roll, 
And lean upon my breast. 

Come in your anguish and your grief, 

" And I will give you rest ; " 
Come when there 's none to give relief. 

And let your soul be blest. 

Come in your sorrow and distress, 

" And I will give you rest ; " 
Come when you would your faults confess, 

And peace shall be your guest. 

Come in your weariness and pain, 

" And I will give you rest ; " 
Come when your hopes begin to wane. 

And put my love to test. 



78 



INSTALLATION HYMN 

SUNG ON THE OCCASION OF THE INSTALLATION OF REV. 
ROBERT A. HILL, OCTOBER 1 3, 1883 

O Shepherd of Thy little flock, 

Thus far thou 'st led us on, 
And through the darkest night Thy hand 

Has pointed to the dawn. 

Oft with no under-shepherd dear 

To guide our erring feet. 
Thy faithful staff has shown the way 

To pastures green and sweet. 

And now, O Shepherd of the sheep, 

We come with cheerful voice, 
To dedicate to service here 

The pastor of Thy choice. 

And may the compact that we make 

Be " Glory to Thy Name ! " 
And let our aim and purpose be 

To spread abroad Thy fame. 

79 



And when on earth our work is done, 

And all our conflicts o'er, 
Oh, may we meet with harp and palm 

Along the golden shore ! 



80 



THE HEART'S VIGILS 

"I sleep, but my heart waketh." — Canticles 

A DREAMY slumber shuts mine eyes, 

And locks my mind in sleep, 
But ever on its guard, my Heart 

A constant watch doth keep. 

' I sleep," but at the least alarm 
My Heart is all awake. 
To catch the faintest sounds of harm 
That through its chambers break. 

I seem to sleep, but all around 

The golden gates of life 
My Heart keeps guard and quickly hears 

The slightest sound of strife. 

" I sleep," and dream of Faith and Hope, 
And Peace and Joy and Love, 
Till all my soul seems calm and still, 
And grasps at things above. 



8i 



But still my Heart is not at rest ; — 

A sense of danger near 
Lurks like a ghostly spectre round, 

And will not disappear. 

Oh, for a mind to rest secure 
From every touch of Fear, — 

A mind to lift my Heart and Soul 
Up to their highest sphere. 



82 



A VISION 

My soul on restless wing took flight, 

And gladly soared away, 
Till, hidden in the Infinite, 

She found life's purest ray. 

'T was but a moment ! — back again 
To earthly things she came ; 

The glory was too grand to last, — 
Too radiant was the flame. 

But when at length my soul shall gain 

The other side of life. 
The gorgeous vision shall remain 

Untouched by dream of strife ; 

And all the endless years of God 
New beauties shall unfold. 

And no fond yearning of the heart 
Shall ever be controlled. 



83 



RECOMPENSE 

One Christmas morn I gave my child 

A token of my love, — 
An earnest sweet of Him who left 

His Father's throne above. 

One day beneath the scorching sun 
Which beat on Afric's plain, 

I told a yearning soul of Him 
Who for his sins was slain. 

My child was pleased, but he who heard 
With peace and joy was filled ; 

I in the gift rejoiced ; but by 
The hopes I breathed was thrilled ! 



84 



"THE BLOOD OF JESUS!" 

" The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all 
sin." 

" The blood of Jesus ! " Catch the strain, 
Ye royal sons of Truth, 
And let the theme proclaim His reign, 
Fresh with eternal youth. 

" The blood of Jesus ! " Grander grows 
This wondrous song of love, 
Until the heart with rapture flows, 
And joins the harps above. 

" The blood of Jesus ! " O ye choirs 
Before the Father's throne, 
With gladness touch your trembling lyres, 
And make His glory known. 

" The blood of Jesus ! " Higher still 
The charming anthem raise, 
And let its grandeur sweetly fill 
The universe of praise. 
8s 



" The blood of Jesus ! " O ye saints, 
How golden is your speech ! 
The angels' voices are but plaints 

When they such heights would reach ! 

" The blood of Jesus ! " Join the lay, 
Ye pilgrims here below, 
Till thou in perfect, endless day 
The grand new song shall know. 



86 



A MATCH GAME OF CROQUET 

'T WAS in the autumn of the year, 
The season to our hearts most dear, 
When wood and field in gold and blue 
Their beauty o'er the landscape threw, 
Till all the scene seemed touched with love 
And wore the hue of heaven above. 

'T was at the sunny hour of noon, 
And bright the day as any June, 
When to the dreamy fields away 
We did repair to play croquet. 
The balls were white and red and hlue, 
The stakes were red and white and new, 
The mallets bright and gorgeous too, 
And so were all the Edgeworth Crew. 
The S'wickley Club was gay and true. 
With girls dressed in the sweetest blue^ 
And all were eager for the fray, — 
The play which Frenchmen call croquet. 

The game began : red made a play, 
And through an arch sped swift away ; 
87 



Then followed balls of every hue, 

White, brown, and yellow ; black and blue; 

And thus the circle soon was swung, 

And all the welkin gladly rung 

The triumph of the Edgeworth Club, 

Which is croquet's great Western " hub." 

Again we swung the circle round. 
And left the wickets in the ground j 
(The Constitution in each hand, 
The earnest of a loyal band.) 
With varying success we played. 
As each, with careful stroke, essayed 
To win or di^ upon a field 
Where shouts of victory oft had pealed. 

The game seemed close, the fight waxed warm, 
As all around like bees did swarm, — 
The youth and beauty of the place. 
The sweet embodiments of grace. 

But soon, alas ! the truth seemed plain, 
That all the witches were not slain 
The day that Goody Martin died. 
But still do wildly, madly ride 
O'er hill and plain, o'er field and dell. 
To bring to grief with wondrous spell 
The best made plans of mice and men — 
The azurest ball in all the glen ! 
88 



For as the play went on 't was found, 
The ball in bhce was losing ground, 
And round the second arch did stay, 
Like maidens round a pole of May. 

'T was vain to urge the blue ball through, 
Fpr well the witches saw and knew 
That of the pot which they did brew 
He had imbibed so large a stew^ 
That all the arts of head or hand 
Could not undo what they had planned. 

And thus the fight went fiercely on. 
On what was once a peaceful lawn ; 
Red sprites and white, and black and gray, 
Joined in the fierce, unequal fray. 
And all the rage of all the crew 
Seemed leveled 'gainst the ball in blue ; 
'T was vain for him thus to contest 
The game with witches of the West. 

But still around the second arch 
The impish sprites did wildly march, 
As blue ball strove the arch to gain 
And break the spell that gave him pain j 
But all in vain. His foes stood fast. 
Determined all his hopes to blast. 
At length, oh, happy thought ! a friend 
A kindly hand did gladly lend, 

89 



And spite of sprites of every hue 
Put blue ball gayly, grandly through. 

(And here — in hoops — the blue ball bows 
His head in humble thanks, and vows, 
If e'er the ball in dainty brown 
Shall fall beneath the witches' frown, 
And stays the second arch around, 
Whilst other balls are gaining ground, 
He '11 to his rescue gladly hie, 
And make the witches wildly fly.) 

But whilst the witching war was waged. 
And on the contest madly raged 
Between the ball in modest blue^ 
And all the worthless, mumbling crew. 
The game was played with warmth and zest, 
To prove which club was truly best. 

Now brown with noble mien did go 
From arch to arch with lucky blow, 
And black (worthy a better name) 
Kept even in the 'trancing game. 
Whilst green, with careful, cautious stroke, 
The evening echoes gently woke j 
Then yellow, white, and tuneful red, 
By orange swiftly, gladly led. 
Each through their arches gayly sped, 
And lustre o'er the field did shed ; 
90 



The stake was gained by all but green, 
(And blue^ of course, which, in the scene, 
With witches far behind had run, 
And on the race had scarce begun ;) 
And on the home-stretch swept along. 
As insects sung their evening song, 
And all the air rung with the cheers 
Of all the smaller Edge worth dears. 

Here orange, stately as a bride, 
And in far more than regal pride, 
Defied the balls of humbler hue. 
And swiftly sped the wickets through. 
And white and yellow, joined as one, 
Together close the gauntlet run. 
And red with music sweet went through. 
As round the zephrys gently blew. 

Here brown and black, with smiling grace, 
Were next found running in the race. 
Whilst green, with caution in his play, 
Plied slowly on his winding way ; 
And blue^ still blinded, sick and sore. 
Began to think croquet a bore. 

And thus we went, and thus we played, 
And thus together progress made, 
Till all the Edgeworth club, with shouts. 
In which were mixed no fears nor doubts, 
91 



Exultant gathered round the stake 
To one by one their exit make. 
The game was played, the game was won, 
And Edge worth most enjoyed the fun ! 
Sewickley, October 13, 1866. 



92 



THE THREE STAGES 

The scent of apple blossoms filled 

The balmy evening air, 
As Sue and I walked hand in hand, 

A trusting, happy pair. 

The scent of golden apples filled 

The dreamy autumn air, 
As Sue and I walked hand in hand, 

A wedded, happy pair. 

The scent of apple butter filled 

The cosy dining-room 
As Sue and I danced hand to hand 

Around the kitchen broom. 



93 



ElectroiyPed and printed by H. O. Houghton &" Co, 
Cambridge, Mass, U.S. A. 



OCT 10 1900 



